


Seeking Home

by gnimaerd



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6240721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnimaerd/pseuds/gnimaerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry comes home early one morning. Iris is pleased to see him. Established relationship fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeking Home

Barry arrives home at a little before 6AM, that Saturday. Iris’s stuff is scattered around the kitchen – her laptop’s still open on the table amongst a sea of notes and coffee mugs. She must have been up late working.

He takes off his shoes and tip-toes upstairs to their bedroom – where she’s asleep, of course, a tight huddle on his side of the bed, face mostly obscured between the pillows and the comforter and her hair falling everywhere. He can hear her breathing, slow and even. One hand is just visible, thrown out loosely toward him, little fingers curled.

Barry lets his heart swell, for a moment – thinks about whether to climb in there with her, safe and snug, or go back downstairs and wake her up with breakfast in a couple of hours.

Either way he really needs a shower. It’s been two days of exhausting work in Star City and there was hardly time to eat (he’s had ten pizzas in the last two hours he’s been so hungry), let alone rid himself of the sweat and grime that tends to accumulate whilst taking heroic, city-saving measures.

He’s shrugged off his jacket and cardigan and is tugging at his shirt buttons when he hears Iris stir.

“…Bear?”

Her eyes are cracked open, her face raw from sleep, voice small – she twists, clumsily, pushing back the covers. And oh god, he can’t resist her, so warm and soft in the early morning light.

“Hi,” Barry holds out his hands to her, going to the bed. “Hey, Iris, hey.”

“Mm,” her smile spills around a wide yawn as she sits up, “c’mere.”

She reaches, getting a handful of his shirt to tug him lazily down to her and Barry lets himself be pulled, meets her with a gentle kiss. “Thought you weren’t back till this afternoon.”

“We got done a little early, so I hopped on the overnight train,” Barry wraps his arms around her, nuzzling in against her neck and breathing her in for a moment. He had wanted to run all the way home – which would have gotten him back hours ago – but he was exhausted and Caitlin had warned him against it, worried he’d make himself ill, so he’d contented himself with the train whilst the others made good with Oliver’s offer of hospitality overnight.

Barry just wanted to get back; back here, to his bedroom and his girlfriend, safe and soft and his, the peace and familiarity of her after the dark chaos breeding in Star City.

“Mm, yay,” she squeezes him, her voice still carrying the croak of slumber. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He really did. It’s the first time they’ve been apart overnight since they moved in together. He hadn’t realised how used to sleeping next to her he’d become until he’d had to go to bed without her. He kisses her again, and gives the sweatshirt she’s wearing a teasing little tug. “Is this mine?”

It’s one of the Star Labs ones, and Iris definitely has her own but this one is drowning her. She shrugs, pulling the sleeves up to her elbows. “Shut up. It’s comfy.”

“Aw, you really did miss me.”

She giggles, poking him, but she doesn’t let him go, either, one fist remaining tight in the fabric of his shirt, and Barry’s glad of it, glad of the way she lays her head on his shoulder, glad of how familiar the rhythm of her breathing still is.

“You smell funny,” she tells him, conversationally.

Barry snorts. “Thanks for that, babe.”

“Like you went and rolled around in an oil slick.”

“I know, I need a shower,” he pulls away from her, about to get off the bed, but she tugs him down again.

“No. Stay. Shower later.”

He’s never been one to resist a direct order. “Yes ma’am.”

“Mm,” she hums, contentedly, as he crawls on top of her, the pair of them clumsily pushing the comforter aside, a tangle of limbs and sheets as they settle together. “Take off your pants. Too many buttons. Too hard. No hard things.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well,” she pauses, her smile small and impish, “you can have one hard thing. We can work on that.”

Barry props himself up over her, on his elbows, taking in the contented sprawl of her against the pillows, the inviting, drowsy warmth of her body in his sweatshirt, on his side of the bed, the bracket of her hips where his fit just right – where they’ve been wanting to fit the last two days – and god he’s a lucky bastard. “You coming on to me, Miss West?”

She giggles, still sleepy, but with her eyes bright and knowing – holds up her thumb and forefinger to indicate _just a little_. Barry kisses her palm.

Then he sits up and gets out of his pants and shirt as quickly as he can (which is pretty damn quick, after all) and Iris is pulling him, strong little hands on his back and then his thighs and hips, guiding him up against her – she’s not wearing anything but that sweatshirt and he can – god _he can feel her_ through the thin fabric of his boxers. She opens her mouth into his kiss and it’s lazy and safe and home, all of it: her bright eyes and bare skin and easy kisses.

Iris has always been home and he’s so grateful he can at last come back to her.


End file.
